


A Promise

by DecayingLiberty



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Courfeyrac asks Valjean to save Marius from the barricade, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayingLiberty/pseuds/DecayingLiberty
Summary: Courfeyrac takes the watch and has a conversation with Jean Valjean.





	A Promise

“One more step, Monsieur, and I won’t hesitate to shoot”, says a cheerful voice above him and Valjean lifts his head to be greeted with the barrel of a handgun aimed directly between his eyes.

In front of him on the fallen carriage stands a young man with dark curls and freckles, eyes blazing with anger, the waist coat unbuttoned and the cravat loose and untied, his figure blurred against the night sky and framed by distant stars. Something about the way the young man smiles and how the thoughts seems to flicker wild and untamed behind his shining eyes reminds him of Cosette.

Valjean rises from where he has been bent over Marius’ sleeping form when he has tried to take the letter from the boy’s grasp, and lifts both of his hands in the air to show that he is unarmed and means no harm... that is to say, he means no harm to the other men on this side of the barricade unless they attack him first.

The young man however does not lower his weapon. Instead he watches Valjean with the eyes of a predator, with fingers coiled tightly around the grip of the gun and countering each of Valjean movements by adjusting his body in opposing positions should Valjean attack.

Valjean is impressed.

“Monsieur, I must ask you to step away from my dear Pontmercy. I promise, he possesses nothing of value to you.”

“I am no thief,” says Valjean but the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He tries to ignore it as he takes a few steps away from the sleeping boy.

“If you are no thief then,” says the young man narrowing his eyes and inching forward slightly, “what interest could you possibly have in my friend here?”

Valjean chooses not to answer.

The soft wind rustles the dirty and torn flag on the pole as neither of them moves or speaks, choosing instead to wait for the other to have an reaction. They are frozen instead, fixed in silence and standstill under the scarce stars that dare to sparkle through the heavy dark grey clouds hanging low over the streets of Paris. The air is charged with unspoken distrust.

 

* * *

 

“Here you are,” says Courfeyrac and flings himself on Marius’ neck. This is the first moment of reprieve that they have been granted since Marius has made his presence known to them and, unfortunately, also to the National Guard. Marius wraps his arms around Courfeyrac’s back reflexively and Courfeyrac can feel their hearts beating erratically. Courfeyrac thinks that Marius must be reeling from what he has threatened to do but when Marius holds him closer and runs a soothing hand through Courfeyrac’s hair, he realizes that he is the one who is shaking.

“Everything’s all right now,” Marius murmurs only for him to hear.

Courfeyrac laughs. It almost sounds hysteric but the tiny amount of relief of having Marius still alive, of feeling his warmth and his heartbeat, makes him euphoric.

The world shifts back into focus when his friends’ voices rise around them, talking over each other, expressing relief and gratitude and excitement. Courfeyrac pulls away when they swarm Marius, they pat him on the shoulders, shake his hand and pull him into firm hugs. Marius lets it happen with rather mechanical movements. When they let off of him, he turns to Enjolras.

“Who is the leader?” Marius asks.

“You are,” says Enjolras.

Marius can be many things, a friend, a soldier, but a leader? Perhaps in another time and in another situation where he has not threatened harm to himself and everyone close by. Marius is in no state to lead responsibly.

“Enjolras, don’t,” says Courfeyrac.

Enjolras fixes him with a firm look, determined and wild, but that doesn’t faze him.

“You can’t,” Courfeyrac emphasizes.

“I can,” says Enjolras and lowers his intense stare. He seems almost guilty. “I have. Every man shall fight with the most of his ability. We must do what must be done.” He firmly places a hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “For a better tomorrow.”

Courfeyrac presses Enjolras’ arm in return. “For a better tomorrow,” he repeats.

Enjolras gives Marius an encouraging touch on the shoulder, lighter than the one he had given Courfeyrac, and turns to tend to the wounded.

Marius is still standing in the middle of the place, looking lost as ever, still loosely holding a dead torch in one hand but tightly gripping the leather strap of the barrel with gunpowder in the other. When Courfeyrac meets his eyes, Marius’ stare is vacant.

 

* * *

 

“Marius, have some rest.”

Marius does not stop rearranging another piece of the barricade for more stability and purchase but he turns to acknowledge Courfeyrac. He does not say a word. In fact, his jaw is set so tight, that he cannot make himself answer and if he even dares to open his mouth the impact of his emotions will hit him and overflow. He cannot afford that.

“You are tired,” Courfeyrac tries again and takes hold of his hand as he passes by to acquire another piece of furniture. “Come, sleep with me.”

Marius smiles against his will. Courfeyrac navigates relationships as Enjolras calculates a battle. The words have been chosen carefully, the impact of them accurately estimated. At another time, in different circumstances, Marius might have been moved by them but now his world seems so bleak and dark that the memory of this occurrence does nothing more than flicker pathetically in the back of his mind.

It seems so far away now, a different life, even though, realistically, it has been only a few months ago.

“But you’re not sleeping,” he says instead.

Courfeyrac climbs the barricade and searches for a comfortable spot to keep watch. “That is why you need to sleep for the both of us,” he says. “Now, come here.”

Marius sighs and complies. He settles into the closest comfortable patch which is a few centimetres beneath Courfeyrac’s sentry and leans back against a fallen carriage.

“Are you satisfied now?” Marius asks.

From atop the barricade, Courfeyrac smiles at him. “Quite”, he says.

The rebels settle around the barricade. The wounded are tended to, the ammunition rationed and the wine carefully distributed. The hectic bustling turns into a soft lull. There is muted laughter and mumbled conversation, someone is humming a drinking song.

“Marius,” Courfeyrac says.

There are things that are better left unspoken. Marius knows with Courfeyrac, words are not needed and he speaks no words now, yet Marius hears them anyway.

_Why are you here? What are you doing? Why don’t you run?_

“I’m glad you’re here,” Courfeyrac says aloud.

Something flickers deep inside Marius’ heart, something like hope and maybe a will to live but he crushes it with indifference and rage and says nothing in return. He cannot bear the sad and gentle smile that Courfeyrac is offering him because he fears that if he looked at it too long his composure will crack and he will become aware of the stupidity of his feat.

Paper crinkles in his waistcoat. Marius reaches for it and even though he has looked at the letter often enough to remember every fold and stain, he cannot help but to look at it again. The curves of Cosette’s rushed handwriting offer him comfort but the meaning they bear remind him of the reason he is at the barricade after all. He is shaking, from fear or the chill of the night he cannot tell, and he clenches his free hand together so tightly he can feel the shape of his ragged nails digging in to his palm yet he holds onto the letter with a careful grip like it is the most precious treasure he owns. In a way, it is. It is all he has left of her.

Marius closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

After several endless seconds, the young rebel lowers his weapon and Valjean allows himself to move out of the defensive tight coiled posture he has adopted ever since he has been threatened. The young man takes a deep breath and settles back into his sentry with the back turned towards Valjean as if he is no threat.

“I recognize you now, Monsieur,” the boy says with eyes fixed into the darkness of the streets. “And I do have my assumptions about what your reasons to be here might be — though I do hope that the majority of them are wrong.”

Valjean climbs up to the sentry and takes a spots close by. He remains silent.

“I know that you are here for Marius,” the rebel continues. “I have yet to uncover the nature of your intentions. Are they malevolent or benevolent?” He folds his arms onto the edge of the barricade and looks up to the heavy clouds. “Either way, I won’t allow any harm to come to him.”

Valjean almost understands.

All the people who have come here to this barricade, to this battle, have come with a purpose and the will to fight to their last breath for a better future. For their children’s sake. For the future’s sake. Everyone follows the same greater cause, except Marius.

“You see, Monsieur,” says the rebel, “everyone thinks of me as a great friend. ‘Oh, you are in need? Ask for Courfeyrac!’ Ha!” He drags a hand across his tired face. “Lately, I have been so focused on creating a better tomorrow that I have forgotten my duties in the present.”

Valjean makes a grim sound of acknowledgement.

“I have failed him as a friend.”

“You still are a good friend to him,” says Valjean.

“Perhaps I am a good friend now... but I should have acted sooner. I thought he would recover quickly from his heartache. I had never thought that his affections are deeper than superficial infatuation.”

Valjean looks up. He knows Cosette’s affections for the young Pontmercy are not as insignificant as he would like to believe, still he has hoped for them to be short-lived— a foolish if not selfish thought. The confirmation that Cosette’s affections are returned just as fiercely and just as sincerely, makes something shift deep inside his heart where the protective instincts of a father rest.

“Despite what Enjolras says,” Courfeyrac continues, “it will take a miracle for the fight to turn to our favour. We are outnumbered and caged but I am willing to die for what I believe to be right.”

Valjean nods.

“Marius does not believe in the cause like the others do. He does not expect to be alive at the end of this all — but Monsieur —” Courfeyrac turns to look him in the eyes with a firm determination — “if your daughter’s happiness is at all of importance to you, then please, I beg you, save him.”

Eyes sparkle with unspilt tears on the young face and the image is impactful and blood-chilling. Valjean looks away and takes a deep breath before he faces Courfeyrac’s gaze again.

“I don’t want him to die for a cause he does not believe in,” says Courfeyrac. “He still has so much to live for. So, please, Monsieur, save him.” The words come out choked and it takes great effort for them to be voiced coherently at all. “Save him where I have failed to do so.”

Wind drifts through the barricade and the chill of the night makes Courfeyrac shiver visibly. He wipes his face of the tears that have dared to spill over and hugs himself to keep the warmth from escaping. He looks at Valjean uncertainly, yet expectantly.

Valjean is not one to deny a dying man’s wish.

“Thank you, Monsieur.”

 

* * *

 

Morning has barely broken when they hear the soldiers approaching. They have been awake for a while now, preparing for the second attack by gathering ammunition and positioning those who are still capable of fighting.

They fend well for the first few attacks but then the cannons emerge and the fighters turn from tentatively hopeful to fearless and resolute in the face of death, resigned to their face but determined to take with them as many as possible.

Fights are seldom beautiful, yet this one carries the raw beauty and splendour of hope raising its head for the last time.

Courfeyrac’s words echo in his ear, the memory of them has burned itself into his brain and Valjean grits his teeth in an effort to tune them out, to not let them make him frantic and panic with the fear of not only failing to keep his promise to Courfeyrac but the unspoken one to his daughter, too. Shots and cannons roar above him as he ducks through the debris and searches for the familiar face of Marius Pontmercy.

He finds the boy, wounded and unconscious in the open field, and makes a run for it. Around him the rebels fight with their last power and amongst them, he sees Courfeyrac with a sword cane and a broken gun fending off two soldiers at once. Valjean almost helps but he remembers his promise and the words and the tears from last night, and even though he wants to he stops himself. At times like this, it is hard to remember that he cannot save them all.

Valjean reaches Marius as another cannon ball shatters the part of the barricade above them and he covers Marius’ body with his own to protect him from further harm. A shallow heartbeat thrums under his fingertips where he has buried his hands into the thin fabric of the boy’s shirt.

Valjean does not wait for the dust to settle around them — by then it might be too late for them to escape in the tumult of battle. He lifts his face and blinks against the particles in the air, taking care not to breath in too much of the gunpowder and looks around for a place to hide, a nook or a cranny, anything that would keep them out of sight.

As his eyes wander, he sees the frantic look of Courfeyrac that scores the battlefield restlessly until it settles onto Marius lying at Valjean’s knees. Valjean catches his eyes and nods once.

Even from the distance, Valjean sees the relief coursing through Courfeyrac’s body as three bayonets pierce his chest.

Courfeyrac falls with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished it!! This has been in the works since December 2016 and I finally finished it!! It turned out longer than I expected but I'm quite pleased with it!
> 
> This feels like a fix-it to me because Courfeyrac has no real closure with Marius. My headcanon was that he died believing that he failed Marius as a friend even if this failure has brought Marius to fight at the barricade with the rest of the Amis.
> 
> Anyway, if you have made it till the end, congratulations! Thank you for reading! Please tell me your thoughts either on my [tumblr](https://decayingliberty.tumblr.com) or in the comments! Thank you! ♥


End file.
